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Cursed
Prologue Blood. So much blood. Bodies littered the fertile earth, that only days before, had been green farmland covered with the first blooms of Shemrins, tiny, green plants that were a lot like wheat. Now, men, women, and children were scattered, pale faces and wide, vacant eyes staring forever into the silvery-red moonlight. Only one tiny figure was alive, letting out tiny whimpers that sounded like the mewls of a small kitten. He was too old to be a toddler, but younger than a teenage lad. Locks of dark hair fell in his face, while two, moonlight gray eyes tinged with blue stared unseeingly into the ground. Footsteps then. He was frightened, was it more soldiers, coming to finish off the weakling? No. Suddenly, two hands wrapped around the boy's stomach and picked him up. The arms were thick and well muscled, while a broad, solemn face stared into the child's petrified eyes. Struggling, the tired youth tried to make a break for it, fearing that the man meant him nothing but the greatest harm. "Shh, lad. Nobody's going to hurt you now." Said the voice, old and deep like a baritone drum. Other footsteps then, falling onto the ground heavily, accidentally stepping onto the carelessly thrown bodies. Eyes turning to see who it was, he was shocked to see a pale faced woman. She had vibrant red hair, and expressive bright blue eyes that looked at him sadly. "Innis, the boy's frightened. Look at everything around you, this wasn't an accident. It was a massacre." The woman admonished the man, her voice firm and ringing with absolute authority. The man called Innis put the boy down for a second before looking around with teary eyes. Suddenly, the big man's face crumpled and he started to bawl like an infant after they've just been born. After a few minutes, the crying ceased, and he looked at the red haired woman with new eyes. Giving himself a shake, Innis tugged the boy to his feet and stared at the clothes he wore critically. Joining them, she dress ruffled against the ground, her leather boots finally crunching onto plain soil at last. "What's your name?" The woman asked after a moment. "C-Cayden," he answered. Innis gave a start of surprise, while the woman just fell silent, eyes narrowing in thought. Moments passed before the man spoke, his voice suddenly curt. "Cayden be a cursed name, boy." Innis said. "Oh," the lad murmured. "You be Blane now," the woman declared after a pause. "Flanna-" Innis warned. "No, you listen to me now, Innis. Blane is a good name for the boy, as Cayden was part of his old life, it shall stay in his old life. Blane, a new name, new life." Flanna stated matter-of-factly. The logic worked on Innis, and he looked at the boy once more before offering his hand. Blane stared at it distrustfully for a few moments before grasping it tightly in his delicate fingers. He was hurting all over, especially in the stomach, where a soldier had clubbed him and sent the young lad flying through the air with inhuman force. At the start of a new dawn, the three were together, the woman making a potion of herbs to heal the strange child. Her hands were scraping the last of the leaves off of her table when she saw a strange, spiraling mark in the wood. A string of curses came out of her mouth until she registered the meaning. Blane, the poor young'un, was in for the run of his life. It was only a matter of time before the Curse of Darkness came upon him. Chapter One In the Breianen Valley, mounds appeared, looking like the dens for bears instead of what they really were-homes for humans. The only distinguishable building was a plain, small castle the color of tarnished silver that rose beyond all the huts. On one side, the stone walls were crumbling, and the roof was too soggy to shelter anyone inside properly. Inhabited by the leader of the village, Alaina, to many's dismay, had never, ever repaired the castle to its former minor glory. Two glass windows that had been broken were the only sources of light in the whole building. A stone tower on the left side held a winding staircase that led to the lady's room. On the hill just bordering the castle limits stood a young woman of sixteen. She was a slender thing, strong despite her fragile appearance. The girl looked around the vast valley that was her home. Joy filled her to hear the cry of a red tailed hawk on the rising current of strong wind. The cool grass beneath her feet were wet with the morning dew that clung like moss to a rock to the fronds of grass. Her long dark brown hair blew in the wind, before it cascaded down her back. Two gray-brown eyes stared into the distance, and caught sight of three indistinct figures. She made out that two were older, but the shorter one,assuming that it was younger, seemed to look her way. Troubled, the girl then turned away as fear gripped her heart. Were they outlaws, stopping by to cause trouble? Or foreign traders who wished to sell their wares? Either way, the girl wasn't going to take any chances. Blane caught the eyes of a lady staring out into the distance, the folds of her red skirt blowing with the wind. She, he decided, was old enough to be a young woman, but not old enough to be a married woman. But then again, he didn't know the customs of this village, as it appeared that there had to be one, with the castle and all, and the person staring out into the valley. He was thin for a boy of seventeen, and had bone white skin, with hair the color of polished ebony and eyes a light gray tinged with soft blue. Traveling with him were Flanna and Innis, who were debating on whether or not to stop and trade with the village folk here. Personally, Blane didn't want to stop, only to travel on. He always seemed to cause trouble wherever they went. "Should we stop?" Innis asked Flanna, as usual, for advice. "Yes, but remember, these people will bring down a hand Category:Stories